


Runtime Error?

by sirensoundwave



Series: Plot Bunnie Farm Escapees [13]
Category: ReBoot (TV), Wreck-It Ralph (2012)
Genre: Drawing parallels, Exploring worlds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 04:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4815593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirensoundwave/pseuds/sirensoundwave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mainframe's defenders find themselves in a world both alien and familiar to them. With one who reminds them strongly of the past they try to forget. How would they fair learning their understanding of things wasn't the big picture? Contains characters from the fic Ghost in the Code. Not needed to understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Runtime Error?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. If you haven’t read Ghost in the Code at least up until chapter 16, you will probably be a bit confused. There’s also stuff here not yet in that story.
> 
>  
> 
> All you really need to know is in FAR, gamers play as Dorian Twillight, a demon. He really goes to hell and beyond to save his in game girlfriend Heather. Dorian is the stereotypical BAMF with a cool weapon (a transforming gun- that’s a living extension of himself). He enjoys trolling people and can be a rather cold hearted dick who’s remarks can be very cruel. His attitude can be summed up as intelligent, arrogant and violent but not overconfident in his abilities. He know exactly what he is capable of, when he needs help and when to cut and run. He is accompanied by his pet Nyx, a black panther. That Vanellope loves to ride much to Ralph’s distress. Then again the adult members of the core four are less than thrilled she hands around with the beast’s master to begin with. Dorian is a daemon called a White Hat, a virus who is able to repair damage and strengthen security. His eyes and ears outside his game happens to be Heather, a trojan program.
> 
>  
> 
> There are dozens of levels but the game is non sequitur, a real latin term I pulled out of my ass to explain that the game itself has no real order of play. Rather a series of things it’s smarter to do sooner than later, tasks that seem logical but can eventually make it impossible to continue playing, others that seem insane but have a purpose and useful items found in the most unlikey places. How and at what point you accomplish goals alters the game world. Basically FAR is one giant fantasy parallel of real life. Even with all these levels, there are pretty much only 3 big bosses.
> 
>  
> 
> Jormangur is a four armed naga demon (who hasn’t shown up in the fic just yet), boss of an as yet unumbered level called Ragnarök, that’s pretty much Hell.. Despite his fearsome in game persona, on off hours he is an approachable, well spoken culinary master who runs a restaurant/club called Midgard out of part of his palace. His right hand/ manager is Lilith, who strongly resembles the Darkstalkers character of the same name in appearance, power and fighting prowess but outside of game play...is sort of a ditz. Because of the nature of FAR, this has a explanation I will get around to in Ghost in the Code.
> 
>  
> 
> Razeon is the priest like angel boss with a ‘big fucking sword’ who rules the Kingdom of Heaven. He speaks with a holier than thou tone and sees Earth as a corrupt cesspool best left to the demons they allow (figuratively and literally) to walk among them durning game play.. But after closing, he’s rude (kinda a foul mouthed asshole), could care less about 99% of the people he encounters and “hates this fucking job” mostly because few gamers ever reach his level. Yet somehow good at dealing with the diplomatic issues between the in game realms of FAR and his girlfriend is Heather Lightheart, the ‘plain Jane” damsel in distress that Dorian spends the game trying to rescue. His right hand is Peter, who is the Hulk sized gatekeeper of Heaven. Peter fights with an axe that has a 5 foot wide blade. In his spare time, he’s a DJ at Midgard.
> 
>  
> 
> The only boss properly introduced as of writing this is Voland, boss of level 18: Ville de l'Étoile du Matin (The City of the Morning Star). He is modelled after Daemon of Reboot. While Jormagur’s level represents hell and Razeon’s heaven, his is more like a really jacked up version of Purgatory/Limbo. This demon child is really a pacifist, preferring his followers seek him out in search eternal happiness...at the cost of their soul. He appears a small and dainty push over but true to the Killer Rabbit troupe, he is able to beat the shit out of pretty much anything that irks him into violence. It is revealed the second purpose of his level is to provide a home for orphaned game characters as a type of daemon called a Thrall. But will also to destroy the ones who have the potential to cause disruptions in other games. Like Turbo. His right hand is Sirene, a normal enough woman who seems to function as his nanny/maid. Until her banshee screams suck out your life force or her living hair tries to strangle and/or mutilate you.
> 
>  
> 
> Of those mentioned, only Dorian, Voland and Sirene maintain the same personas regardless of being on or off duty at the arcade.
> 
>  
> 
> In this story, Mainframe was reconfigured to be a diagnostic tool. The User, who already worked for a software company, now does maintenance on video game cabinets produced by his company. FAR (Fallen Angel’s Requiem) is one of those games.

 

 

*RTE*

 

"Why didn’t we reboot?" Dot asked Bob.

 

"I have no idea. Glitch: stats." A few beeps and warbles later,  the guardian frowned. "Huh. This game is called Fallen Angel's Requiem, and we're at level 18 but that's all the data Glitch can access. The game isn't technically active?"

 

/They don't know when he came. Or rather none can remember. All anyone remembered was the beautiful angel's radiance./

 

"Great. Narration." Matrix rolled his eye.

 

"Shush, it could have some clues" Dot whispered.

 

/To hear his gospel, accept the Word granted eternal peace./

 

"I don't like the sound of that..." Bob looked around at the game sprites milling around them, all with familiar contented smiles. "Or the look of this."

 

/But what is the difference between salvation...and damnation?/ The gentle feminine voice faltered. /After all, both require surrender of your soul to a power greater than yourself. The paradise they found...is a city of the damned./

 

"That wasn’t at all creepy." Mouse groaned.

 

"This situation seems familiar..." AndrAIa looked around and shivered. Matrix held her close, glaring at the happy people who only continued to look back at him unperturbed "In more ways than one."

 

And that's when they all saw it. The pulsing green veins spread randomly across the sprites' bodies.

 

No...

 

/Their messiah was not what he appeared. None who arrive here ever depart. Not with their lives anyhow. Will you be any different?/

 

The quintet plus K9 meandered about for a while. Every so often, a game sprite would approach them and repeat the same thing.

 

"No one is ever lost here. Follow the arrows of light to the Cathedral."

 

It took some time but they finally arrived and the hooded guards opened the doors without prompting. Once inside, the familiarity really hit home.

 

"This...this is the Master Clock..." Bob gasped. “How did we get to the Supercomputer?!”

 

"Allo. Ow unsual for visitors during business ours. Neverheless welcome to Ville de l'Étoile du Matin." A soft voice sounded.

 

The reaction was immediate. GUN whipped out in targeting mode. Frisket growled. AndrAIa and Mouse produced their signature weapons. Bob readied Glitch and Dot took a fighting stance.

 

"Oh moi, je suis désolé! Weapons are not allowed here." The voice tutted. As the source came into view the confusion only grew. It was the Queen of the Crashed floating gracefully before them...but smaller? And...male? With a wave of his dainty hand, the crew suddenly found themselves disarmed. "Zat is better. Your belongings will be returned to you when you leave 'ere. Now, what is zhe reason for such 'ostilty? Especially zince 'ou are in my 'ome?"

 

"Daemon?" Matrix looked ready to strangle.

 

"How can this be?" Dot frowned. "We saw you frament to complete your function."

 

"Besides that this is a game!" Mouse growled.

 

"Ah, I zee zhere ees some confusion." He giggled.  "I am not ooever you believe me to be. My name ees Voland. I am boss of level 18 in Fallen Angel's Requiem. But, I believe my design is based on a great threat zhat existed some time ago. I zuppose, in zome 'ay zhat makes 'er ma mère. I am a daemon but zhat is not my name."

 

"Wait, then you ARE a virus." Bob stated.

 

"Mais, oui."

 

"This makes no sense. How can a virus be part of a game? Why would a user program one in to a game?"

 

"Who cares?!" Matrix yelled and charged the child. Who merely cocked his head to the side then held up a hand. The renegade hit an invisible barrier inches from his target. "What in the net?!"

 

"I do not zink you wish to do zhat. You are not ready traveler.. Zhose oo ish to join me, ear zhe Word, are reborn as my children. But...my infection causes great pain to zhe unwilling, zomething I prefer to avoid oui?" He gently pushed Matrix back to stand with his friends without touching him. "Now- oh my. You must hide!" His white eyes widened in suprise and the group found themselves thrown into a more shadowy area and stuck to the wall like glue.

 

The very doors they entered were blown off their hinges by an explosion. And stepped a tall pastey fellow with long purple hair and a cross between an shot gun and a machine rifle. Floating behind him, a square, gothic window. The face of an adolencent visible within.

 

“How dare you enter sacred ground you abomination!” Voland’s soft voice remained so as he hissed at the new comer.

 

“”You have something I want.” was the short reply.

 

“Zhat means nothing to me.” The child shrugged, rising from his seat to address his guest. “You may die now.” A ball of white hot light from nowhere slammed into the very spot the stranger had been standing blinding the Mainframers.

 

The entire room flashed red and the words GAME OVER blinked overhead, revealing the stranger was nothing more than a scorch mark now. The young boy in the strange window flipped out.

 

/WHAT THE FUCK?! All I did was go in!/

 

/Yeah, that game is so complicated but so hard core. You can’t just waltz into the Cathedral and confront the boss. You need a blood shield from Lilith first otherwise that creepy ass kid wastes you in no time. If you have like 7 God Tears, you have a small window to kill him but only until his power meter goes back up./ another boy appeared beside him. /Every time you respawn he blows you away again but he can only do it 7 times in a row./

 

/Dude this is level 18!/

 

/Yeah, it’s a non-sequitur game man, stuff doesn’t really happen in the order you’d think. It’s like the hardest game Mainframe Inc ever made. Maybe anyone’s made, that’s why it’s still so popular after twenty years. Come on, we can look at a walkthrough and try again tomorrow./

 

/Yeah yeah.../

 

The pair moved away to reveal a bustling room full of children and adults, all of them moving away. Soon the chatter died down and the lights dimmed. Then they heard nothing...followed by...

 

/All clear! The arcade is closed!/ a female teen voice called.

 

“For fuck sake would it kill them to read up a bit on the game before playing? Not like we haven’t been here for almost 20 years.” The stranger had respawned looking grumpy as hell. “Every time...”

 

“You know ‘ow people can be Monsieur Dorian. Instructions are for zhe birds as zhey say.” Voland giggled.

 

“Be quiet. You enjoy blowing me up."

 

"Perhaps."

 

"And who’s the rainbow coalition? Pretty clear they aren't your subjects. Yet." Dorian asked.

 

"Zhat... I do not know. My children ave monitored zhem zince zhey ave been wandering aimlessly een my domain for some time." Voland sighed. "But I ave no idea oo zjey are."

 

The first thing that Bob noticed about this Dorian character was the lack of infection. Second his uncharacteristic behavior, not really minding having been blown up, even talking casually about it. Like it wasn't a big deal. Given how he regenerated like that, it probably wasn't.

 

"Well, they aren't from any of the games in the arcade, that's for sure."

 

"No, zhey appeared after Monsieur Litwak connected zhis to our cabinet." Voland smiled sweetly (unnervingly) and one of the floor to ceiling windows rippled to display the laptop connected to the game.

 

"Well, huh." Dorian looked the group over .

 

"This is so random." Dot shook her head. “When did users start programing viruses into the games?!”

 

"User? You mean humans, zee players and programmers? Well, from what I understand humans design games for zere amusement. Once zey became aware of life within zhe orlds zhey created zhey began putting more zhought into zhem."  He said patiently. "Zhe only visitors from outside zhe other games we ever receive are part of programs designed to upgrade or run well checks on our worlds."

 

Voland glided back to his throne and sat down, closing his eyes in concentration. He opened them again, confused.  He looked at his guests blankly.

 

"You are zhe only ones to come across zhe connection. ‘Ow peculiar. Your programing ees not of a diagnostic nature...save maybe yours monsieur." He pointed to Bob. Then Matrix. "And you as well. Well zhen I am unsure ‘ow to proceed. I ‘ave a zheory.... Sirene?"

 

"Yes my lord?" The woman who just appeared startled the Mainframers. Especially looking at the pulsing green veins across her brow, the same as the sheeple outside. Even close up, it was more disturbing that the infection looked the same. It further rattled AndrAIa and Matriax how much she resembled the former.

 

"Inform zhe other major bosses of our guests, si vous plait."

 

“As you wish my Lord.” The woman vanished in a shower of green sparkles. The uncomfortable silence that followed was occasionally broken by Frisket growling or Bob nervously coughing. Everyone else simply looked around warily; at either their surroundings, this strange diminutive almost copy of their greatest foe or the other obvious virus in the room. Occasionally their gaze would shift to their shuffling feet. After some time, the awkward got too be too much.  

 

“We should probably get going...” Bob started to lead Dot towards the now undamaged doors when they were once again thrown open by large man.

 

"What the fuck is going on now you little spore?" A voice barked, a tall well built sprite dressed like a priest storming in. His skin was a ruddy orange and his hair was a mass of blue dreadlocks. His outfit itself wasn’t black and white per the norm but a maroon with gold piping. On his back a massive sword vaguely resembling a cross. He paused at their visitors. "Who the fuck are you?!"

 

"Allo to you too Monsieur Razeon, right on time." Voland chirped. "As verbally colorful as ever I zee."

 

"Shut it shrimp. Who are they, and why did I have to bail on my date for them?"

 

"I enjoy these little get togethers as much as the next gentleman but I do have food cooking, Lord Voland." The next arrival looked like the love child of a serpent and the four armed character AndrAIa rebooted onto during that ill fated game. Entirely green and tan with claws and razor sharp teeth, the naga beast's ferocious appearance was offset by the baby blue apron depicting frolicking ducklings in chef hats draped across his front and the hair net keeping his flame red locks at bay Two of his hands were stirring a large bowl of something as he slithered in. "Lilith's a saint with confections but rubbish at recipes without sugar. I doubt anyone at the restaurant wants burnt steak tartare after a hard day at work." His high born british accent made him sound more like a professor than the unholy beast he appeared to be.

 

"My apologies Monsieur Jormungar. But zhis cannot wait." Voland sighed.

 

"We just avoided one crisis. Surely this cannot be as dire." Dorian sighed dramatically. Waving a hand outlined in black, a strange chill came over the Mainframers. They grew alarmed when just for second they could see the data and code they were made of."Oh, this is interesting."

 

“What the FAQ?!” Matrix barked. “What did you do to us?!”

 

"Was that what I think it was Sugah?" Mouse put her hands on her hips.

 

"If you think it was a scan, then yes my dear. I am amazed that your generation of sprite even exist anymore."

 

"Ah, magnifique, I was correct!" This (more?) petite version of their worstt enemy squealed and clapped his hands excitedly, popping up like the small child he appeared to be and zipping far too close for Bob's comfort in a flash. The arm of the startled guardian where Glitch rested was pulled forward by the same force that had moved them all like toys. " Qu'est-ce que c'est? Oh I zo many questions! Do you only measure time in small intervals like zeconds and minutes? Were you really in danger of constant deletion in lost games? Do you age?"

 

"Hold the phone brat let em breath!" Razeon chided moving the lavender child back with the flat edge of his sword.  "Sorry, the boy king here gets revved up about ancient history. And any chance to learn about the one he was made to emulate."

 

"Ancient history?!" AndrAIa balked.

 

"Yes. You see technology has advanced significantly since your time. For one sprites like yourselves don’t exist because operating systems just don't work like that anymore. We function in real time now, I suppose you call that game time which is the same way players or users do. The child you saw behind me controlled my actions as he played so in the olden days I would be the user avatar you were to defeat." Dorian smiled showing fangs. "I believe your system was refurbished and upgraded and you just haven't noticed yet."

 

Half of that made no sense to them. Noticing the befuddlement, Dorian and Razeon rolled their eyes, Jormungar face palmed with a free hand but Voland gave the response.

 

"105,189.744. Zhat is roughly ow many ours ave passed zince you e're last online. Based on an estimation assuming you ail from zee mid nineties. It ees very likey that everything outside your system no longer exists." The ‘boy king’ spoke as if tilting a group’s entire understanding of their world was nothing.

 

"Users...look like sprites?" Dot gasped

 

"It is far more accurate madam to say you resemble them. We are the product of their world filtered through their imaginations." Jormangur clarified. "Some are the stuff of their myths and legends, like myself. Others follow their body template more closely such as everyone else in this room."

 

"Point is they know we exist unlike in your day. At least programmers do. How horrified they must have been to discover something they created for entertainment was a living nightmare for beings they were unaware of also creating in the process. And so, they gave us more freedom." Razeon laughed bitterly as he turned to leave. "I prolly got Heather pissed at me over something I don't give two shits about. Ain't that a bitch. Fuck every last one of you and the connection you rode in on."

 

"So you have nothing to say about them?" The naga rumbled sounding thoroughly exasperated.

 

"Delete em. Throw em a parade. Give em jobs at your titty bar J. Hell, let em be snacks for Jojo's freakshow crew for all I care. This was a waste of my time!" The not so pious priest barked. "If my girl's already gone off with Chun Li and Cammy cuz I stood her up, these fuckers better not be here when I get back.”

 

With that, he blasted the doors open with a red beam from his hand. Once outside the cathedral, he vanished in a flash of red. Right after, the doors reform for the third time. The three remaining characters sighed heavily before turning their attention back to their guests. Sort of.

 

“Tittie bar indeed...” Jormangur scoffed. “Lazy scoundrel...”

 

“You know Raze. Guy’s a prick.” Dorian shrugged.

 

“Pot. Kettle. Black.” Four arms deadpanned.

 

“Meh.” Another shrug.

 

“Ell... see no arm in allowing zhem to explore.” Voland spoke a little louder than usual. “I doubt zhey are much of a zhreat. Should zhey prove me wrong, the zituation ees easily remedied, oui?”

 

“Really didn’t like the sound of THAT either.” AndrAIa groaned. Somehow she knew that though this wasn’t the shewitch that had enslaved her and all of Mainframe, this...child could still probably fragment them all and scatter their code to the wind with the all the effort of breathing. Alphanumeric.

 

“Of course. Now that that’s settled I have a kitchen to mind.” The man serpent actually paused to open the doors, shutting them back with his tail upon exit.

 

“I really have nowhere to be per se. But...don’t care enough to stick around so, have fun babysitting Vo.” Dorian gave a mock salute and also opened the door. Once outside he shimmered out of existence. Voland giggled at their confused looks watching the others leave.

 

“We refrain from using our powers once we enter another boss’ domain. It ees considered rude. ‘Owever zhat does not stop Monsuier Razeon from destroying zhe entryway each time. Now, I ave a festival to attend. My children worked ever so ‘ard to put it together, it would be rude not to go. ‘Ou are all welcome to come as well.”

 

He said nothing more as he floated towards the arching doors which opened on their own.

 

“What do you guys think?” Dot asked.

 

“I say we get back to the connection port and hightail our bitmaps outta here.” Matrix declared. “I don’t trust viruses.”

 

“The port’s on a timer sugah. We’re marooned here until that timer winds down.” Mouse said. “An’  I don’t trust that lil virus one bit neither.”

 

“We’re stuck here in bizarro world?!” Matrix exclaimed.

 

“Everybody, stay frosty. Now it’s not like we can leave but I agree we need to be cautious. Don’t let out guard down and we should be fine. Glitch, what’s the timer configuration?”

 

The keytool warbled before displaying timer that said 12 hours. When they once again began to wig out, it beeped in annoyance and converted the word hours to microseconds.

 

“So, for users an hour is a microsecond? Wow.” AndrAIa awed. That meant their lives occurred in the blink of an eye on their scale. If that’s true, every hour spent in the games when time seemed to go on forever and they compiled so fast, was nothing to them? The same amount of time it took for her to make some quick mods to her bike or for Matrix to patrol a sector?

“Dreya? You okay?” Matrix asked.

 

“I...yeah. We don’t have much else to do so why not see what this place is all about? What if we end up here again?”

 

“I couldn’t hurt to get a lay of the land.” Bob nodded.

 

Once back on the street, the Mainframers noticed something immediately- the entire level was now on night cycle. The cars had all vanished, replaced by booths and carts. Extravagant lanterns hung between the lampposts with other decorations. The locals were dressed for a cool night as they ate, danced, and played games. Since they had no local credits, the gang just wandered about and observed. Nothing odd happened until the timer had a 4 hours and 13 minutes.

 

"Why do you cry?" Voland’s quiet voice could still be heard easily over the din, as strange as it was. Perhaps it was because he was so close. Though that still defied logic.

 

"I can't stand it anymore! Please let me stay here. I'm just a minor character, no one will even notice I am missing. "

 

The strange bugged eyed bird creature the size of a large dog prattled on about the despair of being an extra in its game. How pointless it's existence was, respawning over and over again only to be cut down as cannon fodder every game.

 

The look that flashed across Voland’s face when the creature began to whine...reminded the Mainframe crew of the one Daemon made when she rejected Hexadecimal. An expression of absolute disgust. Like the very thought of doing as this poor creature begged were a filthy taboo. Quick as it appeared it vanished, his young face schooled into one of utter zen and complete calm.

 

"Child...I will not endanger the many of your game for you. Ow zelfish of you to even ask zuch." He sighed, shaking his head.

 

"You don't understand! There are hundreds of us! No one will miss just one of us!" It sobbed.

 

"And what of zhe next of your kind 'ho 'ishes to join you? And zhe next? Where does it stop? When zhere are no more of you? When your game ‘as been unplugged? We are all vital to our games- if you were not, you would not exist  And zat makes none more special than any other. I will not allow you to abuse zhis sanctuary for your own gain." He reached out for the shellshocked bird creature and touched it’s head with a single finger. "Forget zuch notions."

 

"Dear User!" Dot exclaimed as whatever it was was wracked by green energy until it's eyes rolled up in it’s skull and it collapsed. She noticed not a single festival goer seemed concerned as they continued to laugh, play, and partake of the entertainment and food available. Only a middle aged male sprite approached the downed creature. Voland’s infection prominent upon his brow and temples. And a faint glow under his red dress shirt.

 

Bob, Mouse and Matrix  readied their weapons (At least the child sized virus had kept his word there) as Frisket once again growled. AndrAIa looked on sadly but didn't take a defensive stance. Instead she wrapped her arms around herself and tried hard not to cry.

 

"Please escort zhis poor misguided creature to zhe train station Tony. He will awake confused but no longer in such a destructive state of mind."

 

"As you wish, my lord." Metal seemed to spring from nowhere covering ‘Tony’ head to toe in a red and gold armor suit. Without another word he carefully lifted the creature and took off thanks to rockets in his boots.

 

“Why did you do that?!” Dot gasped. “That poor thing only wanted help. A no would have been enough, did you have to hurt it?”

 

“Mademoiselle, you are new to zhe way zhing ‘ork ‘ere zo I will explain. We all ‘ave our roles to play in our own games. We perform our duties as intended because if we do not, we risk players believing our gave ees broken. Broken games are unplugged if zhey cannot be fixed or zhe cost to do zo ees too great." He continued to smile serenely.

 

"What happens when a game is unplugged?" Bob had a feeling the answer would not be pretty. Still that reaction seemed so extreme.

 

"I believe it ees zimilar to a lost game 'our own experience. Except on a...zystem? Oui, zystem wide scale only zhere is nothing left behind. Zhe game becomes a death trap zhat few escape from. Even zhen zhey face 'omelessness and all manner of zuffering if zhey manage to get out in time." He looked sad for a moment.

 

/Basically, it's armageddon./ AndrAIa shivered.

 

“Zhat is what I try to shield my children from. Zhere is no past, no future only zhe now which zhey live to zhe fullest.” He continued fingering the hourglass pendant about his neck. That appeared to have the same amount of sand in both sections. Which had not changed since they arrived and met him. Unlike the virus obviously used as his template, he didn’t have an obsession with time or rather getting things done before it ran out. Instead, he seemed to deny it even existed. Time stopped within this game/

 

Suddenly she was jealous and thankful, sad and happy all at once. Her jealousy came from her own origins as a game sprite- a slave to the program who could not deviate from it. Even she had to concede her original self remained within her game because game data could not leave it’s parameters. Only the sheer luck of being an AI Game Sprite allowed her to copy herself onto Enzo’s icon and leave the game with him. There were times she wondered about that. What was her original doing? Did she even remember Enzo and feel loneliness at never seeing him again? Or was she reset to her default setting the instant Enzo won the game? Blissfully unaware of a world other than her own?

 

Given all she’s seen and knows now that she didn’t as a young sprite, which of them truly got the better deal?

 

*RTE*

 

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty sure this is the end of this. Not sure what else to add.
> 
>  
> 
> Jormungar’s name is a subtle (as a brick) WoW reference and the product of my spellcheck refusing to even process the actually slightly longer name of the Norse World Serpent.
> 
>  
> 
> Voland’s accent is the exact same as his 'mother' Daemon and as close as I can come with typed words to it:
> 
>  
> 
> Oh moi, je suis désolé! (Oh, my. I'm sorry!)
> 
> Mais oui. (Literally 'but yes' but used similarly to 'but of course' or 'yes truly')
> 
> si vous plait (if you please)
> 
> Ah, magnifique (Ah, wonderful)
> 
> Qu'est-ce que c'est? (What's this?)
> 
>  
> 
> 8,765.812×16 =140252.992 hours in 16 years. Reboot debuted in 95-96 time period. Piecing together the large gaps in it’s production as well as the fact that the whole series pretty much takes place in about week cuz time is accelerated in a computer I came up with 16 years between the finale and WIR happening. Which is why the gang freaked out over being told they'd be stuck in FAR for 12 hours. It sounded like 12 YEARS to them until Glitch converted the time scale.
> 
>  
> 
> As far as how people figured out there were people in their electronics: Computer games were very popular then but in terms of code being alive, this was only thought to be something that existed in programs that were always running. PC games could be stopped at anytime while the user did something else. It is the Daemon incident that forces people to realize there is a complex world in a lot more of our electronics. It’s important to note this story is set after my fic Ghost in the Code.
> 
>  
> 
> Shameless Self Promotion: Check out Paradigm Shift, a Reboot fic that paints the events of the series in a much darker light. No connection to this fic whatsoever.
> 
>  
> 
> So? Love it? Hate it? General indifference? Reviews are like hugs! Sirensoundwave out!


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